


explosions only you and i can hear

by kingsoftheimpossible



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Large Cock, M/M, Oral Sex, Penis jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 17:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsoftheimpossible/pseuds/kingsoftheimpossible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they don't like each other but nick has a huge cock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. two hand job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliferuined](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliferuined/gifts).



> part one is the probably unnecessary backstory and part two will be the porn. amen.  
> for sadie because reasons.

It’s Harry’s fault- he has one of his Ridiculous Hipster Movie Nights and begs Louis to _please please it’ll be so much fun please stay just for one movie please_. Only he says _film_ instead of movie because it’s one of _those_ ordeals. The films are all black and white, silent except for the accompaniment of old tinny music from Harry’s awful vintage record player. They’re also accompanied by Harry’s rigorously enforced sobriety policy, lest anyone miss the deep spiritual undertones of Buster Keaton falling off buildings of various heights. Worse, even, than that- the films are almost invariably accompanied by Nick Grimshaw.

Louis doesn’t agree to attend so much as he forgets to make conflicting plans. When he walks into the living room Thursday night after a day of lazing around his room in sweats, there’s Harry fiddling meticulously with the projector he got from godknowswhere, stupid record player already sitting in the place of honor on its stand by the couch. Harry looks up when he hears Louis shuffle in and his face lights up with his slow lazy smile. “Lou, are you staying to watch?” he asks, all gross hopeful dimples. Louis just groans, flopping onto the couch and glaring at the blank projection screen.

“Too late to go anywhere else, isn’t it?” he mutters, a bit petulant. Harry just grins at him again before going back to whatever the fuck he’s doing.

* * *

 

When the guests start arriving, Louis wishes fervently that he’d been less petulant and more proactive. _Too late to go anywhere else_ , he’d said, like a proper twat. As the third wave of artificial-hair-color, animal print legging, lenseless-glasses hipster rolls into the already crowded living room, Louis thinks there are plenty of places he could’ve gone. He could be counting grapes in the produce section at Tesco. He could be third-wheeling it with Zayn and Perrie, adorably pretending to vomit at their truly heinous lovey-dovey talk. He could be standing in the center of London, dying horrifically under a stampede of teenage girls. Anywhere but here.

And that’s before Grimshaw and his gaggle of Primrose Hill C-listers burst through the door, looking aristocratic and, frankly, as far as Louis is concerned, obnoxious. He’s acutely aware of how underdressed he is in track pants and a loose t-shirt (although, fuck that, it’s his fucking flat, everyone else is just overdressed like a bunch of snotty knobs). In the middle of Nick kissing Harry twice on each cheek (and how _fucking_ pretentious, honestly) Louis accidentally catches his eye. He glares, and Nick just looks vaguely surprised to see him there, as if it's strange for Louis to be sitting on his own couch in his own home.

When Harry takes tea orders, Nick settles on the couch barely a cushion away from Louis, gracing him with a wide grin. Louis imagines punching him in his horse teeth.

Nick’s hair is styled immaculately in his trademarked quiff, like the paps are going to burst in on this boring shindig any second. Louis resents him, from his expensive watch all the way down to his environmentally conscious faux-leather boots.

"You don't usually hang around for these, Tomlinson. Sudden change of heart on the subject of great cinematic masterpieces?" Nick asks, and even the sound of his voice makes Louis' eyebrow twitch until he just wants to kick him in the ribs and set his stupid quiff on fire.

Instead, he takes the high road, settling for sticking his tongue out and pulling a grotesque face. Nick looks as if he genuinely wasn’t expecting Louis to act like a child- he scoffs and turns to someone else for conversation, and Louis counts it as a victory.

To be fair, the whole thing is a much smoother interaction than the one they’d had on Harry’s very first movie night- it had ended with a cup of tea thrown in Nick’s face and Louis storming off into the garden to yell to the neighbors about how fucking awful the Great Nick Grimshaw was. If Louis pauses to think on it long enough, that occasion probably helped usher in the sobriety policy. All Nick’s fault, naturally.

* * *

 Louis is aware that his overwhelming dislike for Grimshaw is partially irrational. But Louis also knows firsthand how quickly Harry lets people in, and even though he and Grimshaw have been getting on over a year now, there's a part of Louis that still wants to shove everyone in the world away from Harry, lock him in a room on his own where he can't give any more pieces of himself away. It's a little immature and territorial, but so is Louis.

* * *

The problem is, Nick’s still sitting by him. Usually Harry would come plop down between them (hence the just-enough-space-for-Harry’s-narrow-hips gap Nick’s left), but he’s sitting on the floor in front of them, chatting to some woman a bit older and also a bit out of his league. When he gets up to shut the lights off and flick the projector and phonograph on, Louis is hopeful he’ll settle in his normal place as peacekeeper between the two of them. He does not. Louis’ eyes jump over to Nick and he’s gratified to find that Nick, too, is staring at Harry’s back in the dim light with a disbelieving look on his face. At least Louis gets the smug satisfaction of knowing Nick's going to be uncomfortable for the next few hours. He tries to hide his grin behind his hand, coughing delicately.

Shouldn’t have sat down if he couldn’t handle himself.

If they’re going to be here for two hours or however long, Louis is going to make the most of it. He stretches, full body, even raising a leg until his bare foot nudges the side of Nick’s face. Nick’s revolted gagging is lovely, especially when accompanied by the irritated look Harry throws him over his shoulder- he even _shushes_ him, for god’s sake.

The night might be salvageable after all. Nick pushes Louis' foot away from his face, tossing him a grumpy scowl before turning his attention to the screen.

* * *

 

The movie is worse than Louis could've imagined. Not only is it boring, it's _depressing_. He's a bit worried that if he pays too much attention, he'll walk over to the balcony and just step outside and right off the edge. It's a math problem- how many crying orphans can they fit onto one reel of film?

He stifles a yawn because Harry is somehow still trying to seem interested in the travesty unfolding on the screen. Beside Louis, Grimshaw's playing around on his phone- shielding the light with one hand so Harry won't notice.

Clever.

Louis squints from the corner of his eye, trying to make out what Nick's doing, but his stupid long fingers are in the way. He leans a bit closer under the guise of crossing his legs beneath himself.

* * *

Nick's not blind- he knows the little shit is peeping at his phone. He's not doing anything in particular, just flipping through apps so he won't have to watch the dreadful cinematography occurring a few feet ahead. But if Louis' going to look for something, far be it from Nick to deny him a memorable experience. He scrolls through the list until he hits grindr and once it’s loaded, shifts his hand just enough to give Louis a peak at his inbox.

The messages are rude at best and borderline blasphemous at worst. A particularly offensive one with **CUMDUMPSTR**  in the title seems like an appropriate teaser, so Nick opens it and watches Louis in his peripheral.

His face is _priceless_. Nick wants to snap a picture.

When he flips to the next message, there’s a picture of someone’s half-hard dick followed by a single ;). Not to Nick’s taste, but Louis looks like he’s about to throw up or start yelling. Perfect.

And then Nick gets an idea that’s probably divine inspiration.

* * *

Even Harry's dozed off, head leaned back on the couch and mouth wide open, which would be endearing if Louis hadn't been pinching his own leg for the last half hour trying to stay awake like a decent friend. But no, nearly everyone's asleep or making out or surreptitiously browsing Twitter on their phones. Grimshaw is missing- gone for the better part of fifteen minutes.

Louis finds him in the bathroom.

He's not sure, exactly, what he'd expected to find. Something he could rush back and tell Harry about, something that would prove Nick was a phony stupid loserface, a bad friend, possibly a serial killer-

Probably- definitely- not Nick Grimshaw taking dick pics in Louis' bathroom.

There are a thousand things Louis wants to do with this moment- standing in the bathroom doorway, eyes locked on Nick Grimshaw holding his phone in one hand and his erect penis in the other. He wants to take a picture and frame it in the entryway of the flat, get someone from the internet to sculpt a marble statue he can keep in the garden. Call the paps and Nick's boss and the fucking _queen_.

The problem is that all of those frankly brilliant ideas are a fuzzy background noise to the repeated staccato of **fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck**

Because Nick Grimshaw,

as it turns out,

has a truly _massive_ cock.

And he's looking right at Louis, who's looking right back. Nick for his part, seems to be processing the situation a good bit faster than Louis- his shock has already turned into a single derisive raised eyebrow, though he hasn't managed to get himself back in his jeans.

 _Probably a two-hand job_ , Louis thinks vaguely.

"If you're quite through gawking-?" Nick prompts, but he makes it a question, a suggestion. His eyebrow is still raised. Louis could probably heat the apartment complex with all the blood pulsing in his cheeks. Maybe it’ll start a fire and kill him before he says anything stupid.

"I was-?" he starts to explain, but his voice cracks like fucking teenager. Nick's flagging by now, but it's still distracting. Louis feels small in every sense of the word.

Nick’s eyebrows shoot up nearly to his hairline and something wicked flashes in his eyes. “Ooooh, what’s this?” he murmurs, sounding absolutely delighted. Prick. “If I’d known all it took to shut you up was a flash of cock, I’d’ve dropped my trousers months ago.”

The cheek finally cuts through to Louis and he huffs in disdain. “It’s not- I don’t- _Shut up_ ,” he manages, suddenly intensely aware that someone could walk by any minute. The door’s still open, he’s standing just inside, and Grimshaw’s still-

Moving his hand.

Louis’ eyes drop like Nick’s hand on his cock is a homing signal. For a brief sane second, Louis thinks the world is spinning as normal and Nick’s finally tucking himself away. But it’s not and he isn’t.

* * *

This was not the plan. He'd only meant to sneak a picture of himself and then _accidentally_ show Louis when he got back to the sitting room. Apparently he hadn't been quick enough, but the stunned look on Louis' face is worth the change in agenda.

Messing with Tomlinson is a treat for Nick- he doesn’t get to do it terribly often because the boy is _hellbent_ on avoiding him when possible (it’s fair, they really don’t get along). But when they are eventually, inevitably forced together, Louis loves pushing Nick’s buttons and the feeling has become distressingly mutual over the past year.

This, though, is a whole new level.

Nick’s a bit of an exhibitionist- always has been. Part of the radio personality persona or something. Getting hard with Louis staring at him like a bloody goldfish is barely a challenge (in fact, it almost helps, if he’s being honest; something about the way his pink, pink lips are parted, cheeks still burning red enough Nick can pretend he feels the heat on his own skin). And his face when Nick slides his hand over himself just the once- a slow drag, too dry to feel particularly good- Nick half expects Louis to actually _die_.

He doesn't. Louis’ breath catches in his throat and the sound is so unexpected- Nick’s grip tightens and his eyes almost flutter shut before he catches himself- clears his throat loudly, and Louis’ eyes snap up to meet his. “Alright, darling?” His voice is the perfect mix of heat and derision. It’s going to drive Louis positively mad.

* * *

And it does- but it also- it sort of backfires.

In a way.

Louis licks his lips, eyes dropping back to Nick's hand still wrapped firmly around his dick- says, " _Shut up_ ," in the quietest voice Nick's ever heard him use, followed by, "Can I-?" He doesn't finish the question. He doesn't wait for a response either, just takes a step further into the bathroom, hand drifting up towards Nick like it's got a mind of its own. If Nick's going to start something, Louis' going to win it.

Nick nearly swallows his tongue, falling back against the bathroom counter with a noise loud enough to be heard downstairs.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Louis' eyes flick up to his again, not so much questioning as warning. When Harry'd first asked Nick what he thought of Louis, back when the poor dear was still hopeful they could all be best mates, Nick had called him a _fierce little thing_. It feels like that now.

Nick clears his throat again, for his own benefit this time. "At least close the door, Tomlinson," he says, but it comes out as barely a whisper. Louis shrugs one shoulder, kicks out behind with his foot and shuts the door with a gentle click.

The silence in the bathroom is louder than a stadium roar.

"Did you need something?" Nick presses. His hand is still. His mind is racing.

"Wanted to know what you were doing wandering around in my flat."

"It's Harry's, too," Nick reminds him, but Louis just rolls his eyes. The whole room smells like Louis. Nick's not sure who's messing with who anymore.

They watch each other, Nick feeling a bit lightheaded with all his blood down south. He keeps catching Louis' eyes drifting back down to his cock, which was kind of the point, at the beginning. Except Louis wasn't supposed to _stay_. Nick was just trying to take the teasing to a new level, but Louis had started a whole new game.

When Louis finally takes a step closer, Nick feels a pulse run through him- the friction from his own dry hand isn't remotely enjoyable anymore, but he doesn't move it- until Louis is close enough that their toes are almost touching, looking up into Nick's face with his pupils blown wide and his tongue tracing his lips. Nick is truly, utterly, completely unprepared for his question, breathed into Nick's space like a secret between them.

"Can I see it?"

Nick's hand drops so fast he nearly loses his balance, reaching back to steady himself on the porcelain sink. His cock is heavy and hot, almost painful when it throbs for attention. Louis' eyes on him almost feels like a caress.

"How the fuck do you wear such small jeans?" Louis asks reproachfully, but his face looks a little awed behind the mask of grim curiosity. His tone, though, is just so _Louis_ that Nick snorts, and they're so close that his breath ruffles Louis' fringe.

"I don't walk around hard all day. Honestly."

Louis' hand lifts from his side again, and Nick's heart leaps and sputters, nearly stops, settles into a jackrabbit pace.

"Can I?" Louis asks again. His eyebrows are drawn together, looking at Nick like he's some sort of science experiment instead of a real person.

"If you must," he says, trying to sound cool but mostly he thinks he just sounds shocked. He wonders if Harry spiked their teas.

Nick knows, empirically, that Louis is smaller than him. At least a full head shorter, slimmer shoulders, bird bones- but his hands are so _incredibly_ tiny. He traces one finger down the length of Nick, turns his hand under so he can hold him heavy in his hot little palm. Nick can't quite tear his eyes away from how Louis' fingers can't even close around him-he's not breathing but he's thinking he could fit both of Louis' hands in one of his own. Louis uses his other hand to hold Nick's hip in place- as if he's going somewhere, as if he's not frozen on the spot until the earth starts spinning again.

After a moment of just _looking_ , Louis let's out an unimpressed breath. "It's ridiculous," he snaps, as if Nick's cock is a personal affront to him. "You couldn't _fuck_ someone with that thing; they'd bleed out over the goddamn floor."

Nick squeezes his eyes shut tight for a second because Louis' hand is still on his cock and he's just talked about fucking and Nick's human and hard and getting a bit desperate really.

"Can, too."

Louis blinks rapidly as if he'd forgotten the rest of Nick was still there. "What?"

"Fuck people. I can fuck people," Nick clarifies, taking a few calming breaths through his nose and hoping Louis won't notice the precome gathering on the tip of his cock.

Louis' eyes narrow, and for a minute Nick thinks he's going to do something awful and rash like tear Nick's prick right off his body just because. He does, in fact, do something awful and rash. But, as usual, it's not what Nick expected.

"Show me." Louis _has_ to notice all the wet now because it's dribbling down the length of Nick's cock and covering his fingers in a sticky glaze. Nick's not sure he's heard correctly.

"I don't have a video of me fucking someone on my phone if that's what you're after. You're not sending that shit in to the paps."

When Louis squeezes, jerks his hand up in one smooth motion, Nick is completely unprepared. He chokes on his tongue, head tilting back automatically. " _Fuck_ ," he hisses.

"Show. Me," Louis repeats, enunciating precisely as if Nick's a child. Nick's not sure what he is, other than completely fucked.

 


	2. like pulling teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the obvious conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was fucking impossible

_Show me,_ he’d said like a fucking lunatic. Show me.  
  
Louis pushes the door to his room open, slips inside with Nick at his heels, breath ghosting hot down his neck. It’s distracting, which is nice because Louis’ thoughts are reeling in massive dizzying circles.   
  
He’s lost his actual fucking mind.  
  
The whole thing feels like an unspoken dare- like the second Nick left the couch had meant _I dare you to follow me_ , then _I dare you to stay here with me in this bathroom with my cock out_ , and now, the completely logical progression, _I dare you to ask for it_.  
  
And Louis did. Because he’s a fucking idiot.  
  
Nick hasn’t said anything, which is new. When he steps into Louis’ room, he glances around with a critical eye, pointedly sniffing at the cluttered floor. The air of judgemental asshole radiating off him is familiar, at least, and Louis knows how to respond.  
  
“The fucking lights aren’t even going to be on, get over it,” he snaps, kicking a pile of clothes out of the way and flopping down across the bed. Not his sexiest move, but he’s not here to be sexy. He’s here to make Grimshaw uncomfortable.  
  
By consensually touching his penis.  
  
The plan seems better if he doesn’t dwell on it.

* * *

  
Nick’s brain is back in the bathroom. Hell, it’s probably way back in the living room, still sitting on the couch and suffering through that fucking movie. Louis’ flicked off the lamp beside the bed, but the city lights through the window are more than enough to see. There’s a distinct lack of sexual tension in the air- what was so suffocating in the bathroom seems to have dispersed in the fifteen second walk over to the bedroom.  
  
This suddenly seems like a really bad idea.  
  
But then Louis is gesturing imperiously, waving Nick over like he’s the waitstaff at a five star restaurant, saying, “Well, get it out then.”  
  
Which is- it’s not- Nick half wants to tell him to fuck off. Acting like royalty while Nick’s still trying to figure out who’s got the upper hand right now. It makes him feel like Louis is winning, which is just unacceptable. Nick’s older. More experienced.   
  
Hung.  
  
He takes a step nearer to the bed, slotting between Louis’ spread knees. It makes him feel a bit better to hear Louis’ shaky breathing- know he’s not the only one with a heart about a second away from pounding through his chest.  
  
The game, though, as always, is not to show it.  
  
Nick unbuttons his jeans with a little pop that makes Louis flinch. One point for Nick. Not that he’s keeping score.

* * *

  
Nick’s soft when he pushes his jeans and briefs down his legs, and Louis can almost trick himself into thinking he imagined the extra inches in the bathroom. He makes a quick deal with himself- if it’s just a regular dick, he can laugh in Nick’s face and walk out and it won’t count as a loss.   
  
There’s a second when neither of them move- Nick stands between Louis’ legs and they just watch each other, waiting for something. Louis groans, frustrated, because this can’t take too long. Harry might come looking and that’s a whole fucking can of worms he doesn’t care to open.  
  
He grabs Nick’s hip in one hand and pulls him closer until he’s got his mouth pressed against the flat of Nick’s belly, peering up at him through his lashes. Nick smells clean- faint bit of salt, warm and some sort of soap that reminds Louis of his granddad in a way that’s less creepy and more comforting. If pressured at gunpoint, he might admit Nick smells nice. Maybe.

* * *

  
The little bastard is actually really pretty, which has always been a problem for Nick. The last year has been a battle between wanting to make him cry and wanting to write sonnets about his cheekbones.   
  
So maybe it’s not so surprising that they’ve ended up here.  
  
He’s peeking up through his eyelashes like a bloody tease, and Nick’s still at a loss for what to do. His lips are so warm, pressed just below Nick’s navel- then the corners of his eyes crinkle and Nick can feel him grinning, feel Louis’ teeth pressed against his stomach.  
  
He speaks, and his voice is muffled. “Harry never finds out.”  
  
Nick nods once- a quick agreement because _obviously_.   
  
“Alright,” Louis says, the tremor gone from his breath and his voice easy. Nick yelps- which in retrospect will be horrifying, he’ll block that part out- when Louis digs his sharp little canines into the soft skin of his hip. He reaches out automatically to push Louis’ face away, but Louis catches his hand and tangles their fingers together. It feels oddly intimate in a way they definitely _aren’t_.

* * *

Nick’s half-hard now, nudging at the underside of Louis’ chin. It’s already clear that he’s not going to get away with the laughing and walking out plan. On the upside, Louis feels in control of the evening for the first time in a while. Especially when he takes Nick all the way in his mouth, no warning.  
  
He gets a hiss and a half-formed _fuck_ for his effort, and Nick’s free hand jumps up to frantically squeeze at his shoulder. Louis tries to giggle but it gets caught on the fact that Nick’s swelling fast, warm and smooth against Louis’ tongue. In the space of a few breaths through his nose and running his hand down the cool skin if Nick’s thigh to steady them both, Louis can’t fit even half of Nick’s cock in his mouth anymore.  
  
When he glances up at Nick again, the fucker looks smug.  
  
“Go on, then,” Nick says, voice deeper and rougher and awful, honestly. “Bet you can’t take the whole thing.”

* * *

Nick’s mostly joking, but the look that flashes in Louis’ eyes says something along the lines of _fuck you, I can or I’ll kill myself trying_ , and Nick feels a stab of genuine worry run through his gut.  
  
Louis’ lips are stretched wide around Nick’s cock, and Nick can’t help but run his fingers over the hinge of Louis’ jaw, revelling in the tension there. He squeezes lightly and feels a little gasp of pain rise from Louis’ throat, hears it choked off around the head of his own cock. He groans, dropping his hand to the side of Louis’ neck and letting himself get caught up in the panicked jackrabbit racing of Louis’ pulse.  
  
He wonders if Louis is hard.   
  
He chances another look down and catches his breath when he finds Louis glaring right back up at him, wet rimming his eyes but the set of his brows as fiercely determined as ever. A deep breath through his nose, a pause, and then the tight muscles at the back of Louis’ throat start working, pulling at Nick and it’s fucking-  


* * *

 _Hard._  
  
Deep-throating a fucking horse cock is actually really _fucking_ difficult, Louis realizes as he tries to suppress another wave of panic. His body is not happy with him at all, caught in the nebulous space between gagging and blacking out. There are little dark spots building in his vision and he’s still got inches left.   
  
It’s not going to happen. He actually physically cannot do it.  
  
With a monumental effort that’s half dislodging a massive dick from his throat and half petting his wounded pride, he pulls off, leaving a thick trail of spit and choking in a way that probably wouldn’t be described as erotic.   
  
“Y’alright?” Nick asks, sounding genuinely concerned. Fuck him, honestly.  
  
Louis snaps, “Fine,” and his voice is gone. Nick’s fingers trace up the line of his throat, and it’s probably supposed to be soothing but it’s just making Louis’ skin flash hot.  
  
“We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want,” Nick offers, and Louis just groans, wiping irritatedly at the moisture built up under his eyes.   
  
“I know.” For once, he’s more frustrated with himself than with Grimshaw, which is its own special brand of distressing. He drops his forehead to press against Nick’s belly, glaring down at the cock that’s causing him so much trouble.   
  
They’re quiet, Louis rubbing his face against the soft skin of Nick’s stomach and trying to calm down a bit, Nick running his hands absently through Louis’ messy hair.   
  
After a moment, Louis lets out a long breath, blowing the cool air straight down at Nick’s sensitive skin. “Has anyone ever managed?” he asks. He feels childish for wanting to know so badly, but it’s going to eat at him if doesn’t find out.  
  
Nick chuckles, which surprises them both, and Louis looks up to find an unexpectedly fond expression on Nick’s face. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” There’s an undercurrent in the words like the whole thing is adorable instead of unhealthy.   
  
Louis shrugs half-heartedly, glaring at the opposite wall. “Maybe.”  
  
The mattress sinks a few inches when Nick eases down beside him, bare thigh pressed against Louis’ sweats. “No, no one’s managed yet,” he says, bumping his shoulder against Louis’ in a familiar way. Louis doesn’t know if they’re becoming friends or not.

* * *

The thing is, Nick is actually a bit enamored with Louis. Whether he always was and having Louis’ mouth around his cock just brought it out, or whether it’s a whole brand new Thing, Nick isn’t really sure. But he feels it like a warm bubble bursting in his chest when Louis presses back against his shoulder, tiny and radiating frustration and completely adorable.  
  
“What now?” Nick presses, because he’s still hard and one of them is about to get him off. He’s not too fussed about which one at this point, though the newly smitten part of him has strong arguments for it being Louis.   
  
He’s also keenly aware of the bulge in Louis’ sweats, cradled between his thighs like a secret. But Nick’s seen it and now he can’t stop seeing it and he’d like to see more of it.  
  
Louis’ frowning at his own knees like he’s in deep thought, and after a second he glances at Nick. “Were you serious about being able to fuck people? Have you done it before? Successfully?”   
  
And Nick is so fucking gone for him in that moment, because the little beast is worried about, of all things, _disappointing himself_ again. By not being about to take an admittedly unnecessarily large cock. Honestly.  
  
If they weren’t so set on ruining each other, Nick’d like to take him out to dinner. He pushes that thought away quickly, instead laughing a little and answering sincerely. “Yes, I swear. It takes a bit more prep than usual, but it’s entirely possible.”  
  
Louis nods once like he’s made an agreement with himself, then stands quickly and starts stripping out of his clothes- sweats tossed to the floor, loose shirt thrown on the bedside table. He hadn’t been wearing anything else, which is an interesting tidbit to store for later. Then he’s pulling at Nick’s jeans where they’re still wrapped around his knees, pawing them off onto the floor. Nick lifts his shirt off, letting it fall off the bed with the rest of their clothes (and what looks like all the clothes Louis’ owns; he really is horrifically messy).   
  
“Have you ever done this before?” Nick feels obligated to ask, but Louis just scoffs and rolls his eyes, dropping to his knees and digging around under the bed for something. Nick watches his swaying bum with interest, a little disappointed when Louis finds whatever he’s looking for rather quickly.   
  
He tosses it to Nick- small bottle of lube, half-empty. Nick’s so busy imagining the fate of the rest of the bottle’s contents that he misses Louis tossing him something else- which is how he ends up taking a dildo to the face.  
  
Life is like that sometimes.   
  
“Honestly!” Nick hisses, caught between disgusted and intrigued. Louis is red-faced, giggling like a little demon with one hand rested on Nick’s knee for balance. He doesn’t apologize. Nick didn’t expect him to.

* * *

Louis climbs back on the bed, settling on his back with a look on his face that says it’s costing him something. Nick can imagine- Louis doesn’t seem like the type to take things lying down, as it were.  
  
Nick’s doing his best not to ogle him too obviously- this isn’t meant to be like that, though the line keeps getting more and more blurred. Louis spreads his legs wide, arching his eyebrow delicately.   
  
“Get to it, then,” he orders, dropping his head back on his pillows and closing his eyes. Cheeky and bossy and Nick is so here for it that it’s stupid, really.  
  
He flicks open the lube and covers his fingers, watching Louis from the corner of his eye. He’s so pretty and small. It gets so much worse when Nick crawls up between his legs, when he can see the size of his own dick compared Louis’ body.   
  
Suddenly, he’s not sure this will actually work.

* * *

As it turns out, trying to get Louis opened up is a bit like trying to get a toddler dressed. There’s a lot of huffing and moody scowls and irritated wiggling that borders on a tantrum.  
  
“Are you _alright, darling_?” Nick asks, trying not to sound pissed off when he finally looks up from the two fingers he’s painstakingly worked into Louis.   
  
Louis just glares at him, little lips pouting out. “Can you just- get on with it?”  
  
Nick snorts, shaking his head in disbelief. “This is for _your_ benefit, you know. Or have you forgotten nearly choking on my cock a moment ago?” The last part comes out a bit smug. Nick’s only human.  
  
The eye roll he receives in return is truly impressive, especially considering the full-body shudder that accompanies it when Nick strokes a finger across Louis’ prostate. Louis grits his teeth against the feeling, nudges Nick’s thigh with his foot.   
  
“At least move on to that-” he jerks his chin towards the dildo that had nailed Nick in the face earlier, “please.”  
  
Nick counts the please as another point for himself.

* * *

It’s not that it doesn’t feel good- it does, which is part of the fucking problem. The petulant part of Louis doesn’t want to enjoy this. He wants to get it over with and never think about it and-  
  
And he’s nervous.  
  
Not just about the size but about having Nick inside him. _Letting_ Nick inside him. It’s enough of a worry that he’s barely hard, barely feels Nick easing the toy into him.

* * *

“Can we just fuck now?” Louis says, voice a faint whisper. “I can take it, just-”  
  
“No,” Nick interrupts. “I _promise_ you can’t.” Louis isn’t with him, he can tell. He’s stuck in his own head, eyes far off.  
  
When he lets out a sound that’s almost a sob, Nick’s taken aback, blinking rapidly and jerking his hands away from Louis’ body like he’s been burnt.  
  
“Lou-?”  
  
“ _Don’t_ ,” Louis cuts him off, shaking his head in a quick jerky motion. “Please don’t, please just- I don’t care, just do something, please, I’m-”  
  
Nick shushes him, a funny squeeze around his heart that hurts a bit. “Hush, love, I’ve got you.” He pulls the toy out as gently as he can, petting Louis’ sides and stomach with his free hand. “We can go ahead and try if you want.”  
  
Louis really, really wants.

* * *

  
Pressing in feels like dying slow. It’s like losing his breath on purpose, and Nick’s head goes fuzzy with it- he gets lost for a minute, caught up in how hot Louis’ body is where they’re pressed together, how powerful his thighs feel, trembling around Nick’s waist. A soft sound brings him back, and it takes him a second to catch up.  
  
“Dear god, are you _crying_?” he asks, horrified. “Do you want me to stop?” His first reaction is to pull out, but it would only hurt worse, and Louis’ legs have him locked firmly in place.  
  
Louis grits his teeth, glaring up at Nick through eyelashes he _refuses_ to acknowledge are wet. When he speaks, his voice is wrecked but perfectly acidic. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Not everything’s about you.”  
  
Nick huffs a sigh right into Louis’ face, wanting to feel annoyed but mostly feeling annoyingly fond. “Darling, one of us is full of me right now and it is, surprisingly, for once, not me.”   
  
Louis lets out a startled giggle, lips barely brushing Nick’s cheek. He breathes something that sounds like, ‘idiot’ into the crook of Nick’s shoulder, moving his hips the tiniest bit to experiment and-  
  
no, still too much.  
  
Nick’s halfway chewing through his own lip, fighting to keep his body still. It’s a bit hard with Louis scritchscratching his little nails all over his back, but Nick’s had lots of practice gentling overeager boys through this process.   
  
Not enough practice to prepare him for Louis- determined to take the whole thing, vicious and more than a bit mean, honestly- but he’d sort of expected that.

* * *

“I’m going to pull out for a second, alright, darling? Let you breathe?” Nick’s actually worried. Louis’ tummy is quaking, all the hairs on his body on end.  
  
Louis whines, looks disgusted with himself, then shrugs. He clenches his jaw, and Nick grabs one of his hands, presses it against his own bicep. “Hold onto me, yeah?” he instructs, soft. Louis doesn’t respond, just digs his fingers in like a vice when Nick slides out.  
  
He gasps in a breath when he’s empty, rolling onto his side a bit, but then he grimaces and settles on his back.  
  
“Fucking ridiculous, like I said,” he grunts, and Nick tries not to smile.  
  
He lets Louis catch his breath, watching the _thump thump thump_ of his pulse slow in the veins of his neck.  
  
His cocks not too thrilled about being back in the open air, throbbing and making his vision blur for a second. Nick makes the mistake of looking down, seeing his dick resting in the crook of Louis hip.   
  
He’s so small. Nick just wants to hold his cock up to every part of Louis, see how tiny each bit of him looks compared to it.   
  
“Hold out your arm, babe?” he asks. It was meant to be an order but he’s still stuck on-  
  
Louis flops his arm towards Nick, watching him with a thousand questions in his eyes. Nick shuffles up Louis’ body a bit until he can set his cock along Louis’ forearm. He lets out a shaky breath at the sight, and when he looks up to see Louis reaction, his blue eyes are impossibly dark.  
  
Nick partially expects some admonishment, a snappy _can we get on with it_. Instead, Louis tilts his jaw up, croaks, “Do my neck.”  
  
Jesus. Nick settles a knee in the warmth of each of Louis’ armpits, leans forward and presses his cock along the warm skin of Louis’ neck. When Louis swallows, his stubble scratches at Nick’s oversensitive cock in a way that’s either delicious or painful- he can’t tell a difference at the moment.  
  
Louis’ little hand snakes up Nick’s thigh, other hand coming to feel how thick Nick’s cock is compared to his own throat, how long.   
  
“You’re lovely,” Nick murmurs, without really thinking.  
  
Louis just grins, eyes closed, and Nick doesn’t regret saying it.

* * *

  
They try again.   
  
Louis presses Nick onto his back, straddles his hips and steadies himself with his hands against Nick’s sweaty chest. He sinks down- and down and down and _down_ , eyes shut, face blank in concentration- except for the one little dimple formed between his eyebrows.  
  
Nick focuses on that, trying not to think about how close he is already, how tight Louis feels, how he’s so aware of every little place their skin is touching.   
  
“Doing so well,” he says, and Louis purses his lips.  
  
“Shut up; I’m pretending you’re not here.”  
  
Nick chuckles, not bothering to press down the fondness this time. “Who’re you fucking then?”  
  
He catches the corner of Louis’ lip quirk like he’s trying not to smile. “Not fucking anyone. Don’t know what you mean. I’m on a beach in Hawaii.”  
  
He really is terribly cute. Nick’s still imagining taking him to dinner. “When’ll you be back, do you think?” The conversation is a nice distraction from wanting to thrust straight up into him.  
  
Louis grimaces. “You tell me,” he says grimly. Nick peeks down at the joining of their bodies and then squeezes his eyes shut quickly. It’s all so much.  
  
“Pretty soon, I’d say,” he chokes out, feeling a bit strangled.   
  
Louis lets out a sigh of relief and Nick can physically feel some of the tension drain from him. With a final hard push, he sinks until his ass is resting on top of Nick’s thighs, balls resting on the cushion of Nick’s pubes.  
  
Louis’ eyes fly open, and he’s grinning, absolutely ecstatic, mad with it. Nick can hear the marquee running in his head- _i did it i did it i did it i did it._  
  
It’s a brief respite- Louis takes a split second to mentally congratulate himself and then he’s sliding back up, muscles clenched hard, and Nick’s shaking. He’s been ready for what feels like _forever._   
  
“Hold onto me, yeah?” Louis orders, eyes glinting and his face is all laugh lines and something soft. Nick grabs for his hips like their lives depend on it, and Louis works himself into a rhythm.  
  
He’s relentless- as unforgiving in this as in anything else. Nick’s seeing flashes of white, trying to stamp them down because he wants to see _this_ \- Louis riding him, cock bouncing against his round belly, thighs straining, a second from laughing, still clutching the high of having succeeded.  
  
“I can’t-” Nick starts, tongue heavy, trying to get it across- can’t last much longer, can’t stand how much he adores Louis right now, can’t fucking _breathe_.  
  
Louis just reaches down, presses three fingers into Nick’s mouth until he nearly gags- twat- then pulls them out and wraps them around his cock. “Yeah, I know, yeah,” he pants, pulling at himself and Nick has to grip his hips harder, help him keep up pace when he starts faltering, caught between wanting to fuck Nick and fuck his own hand.   
  
“Jesus, you’re something,” Nick mumbles, because he babbles when he’s close and it’s embarrassing and Louis will never let him live it down but-   
  
“If you- say you l-love me, Grimshaw- I fucking swear,” Louis gasps, face and chest and thighs all flushed pink, and Nick maybe does, or could, but he just says,   
  
“I don’t hate you- as much as I did.”  
  
Louis’ laugh is like an electrical shock and it’s accompanied by a splash of come hitting Nick’s belly, Louis tightening impossibly around him and Nick laughs too, because they’re so _fucking ridiculous_ \- and then he’s seeing stars and gasping for breath and coming _hard_. When he comes back, Louis is still giggling, red-faced, collapsed beside him on the bed.  
  
“You’re a fucking idiot,” he informs Nick graciously, running a hand over his face like he’s trying to scrub it all away.  
  
Nick snorts. “You _cried_.”  
  
Louis gasps, affronted. “ _Don’t you dare bring that up again, ever.”_  
  
They’re quiet again, tired and heavy. The silence isn’t uncomfortable like it maybe should be.  
  
“Can I take you to dinner?” Nick asks after a while.   
  
“It’s like two in the morning.”  
  
Nick rolls his eyes because the boy is being dense on purpose now, honestly. “Not right now. Sometime. Eventually.”  
  
Louis thinks on it for a while, blinking lazily at the freckles on Nick’s shoulders. Finally, he looks up, eyes red-rimmed, tired and a little bit beautiful.  
  
“No, I don’t think so.”   
  
Nick can see his cheek working where he’s trying not to smile. He’s an absolute bastard. Nick absolutely does not care about him in the slightest. The feeling is completely mutual.


End file.
